Ten Years Later
by Aria Breuer
Summary: Eldarion is a nine-year-old Prince of the Reunited Kingdoms. As he sits on the throne, next to his father King Elessar, a nine-year-old hobbit boy, and the son of the Bearer of Secrets, seeks the help of Frodo Baggins, who has been a hobbit musketeer for ten years now. Sequel to 'The Bearer of Secrets'.
1. The One Ring's Furnace

**Disclaimers:** I do not own _The Lord of the Rings_. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The Musketeers belong to history, and from Alexandre Dumas' book series about the Musketeers.

*.*.*

Welcome to the sequel to the first fanfiction story of my trilogy, _Frodo and the Musketeers_. :) This fanfic is inspired by Alexandre Dumas' book, _Twenty Years After_ , in which D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers are reunited for another adventure. That's all I'll say about _Twenty Years After_. This fanfic has its own plot and adventure. So, wait and see if Frodo and his hobbit friends are reunited for this fanfic. :)

Enjoy. :)

*.*.*

 _X-X-X_

 _It is 3011, in the Third Age of Middle-earth. In this timeline, Aragorn and Arwen have been blessed with a son, who they called Eldarion. Eldarion is nine years old, and while his father lives, Middle-earth is kept safe from its enemies._

 _But not all is as peaceful as it seems, for as the hobbit Frodo Baggins, bestowed a musketeer ten years ago by Aragorn, known as King Elessar in the Reunited Kingdom, rides to Gondor on a secret mission for the king, this hobbit is unaware of the hidden dangers about to spring forth and take flight._

 _This is where our part of the story begins._

 _X-X-X_

Frodo Baggins rode past the wooden gates, with their ornate dwarvish designs on the front, to the first level of the White City of Gondor. The White City, Minas Tirith, was a seven-tiered city made out of white stone walls and streets. A large rock jutted out from the cliff, acting like the prow of a ship. The seventh tier and the topmost part of the city had a tower, a citadel where the king and queen lived, and a white tree with flowers in full bloom.

It truly was a city to behold.

Frodo was a fair-faced hobbit with lighter-than-usual skin, due to his Fallohide bloodline on his mother's side, thick, curly brown hair on his head and the tops of his feet, short pointy ears, and bright blue eyes.

Today, he wore a dark blue jacket, a light blue waistcoat, a white dress shirt, tan suspenders, and royal blue breeches. The cloak he wore came from the Musketeers when he joined their ranks in protecting King Elessar, Queen Arwen, and their nine-year-old son Eldarion from danger. The cloak was bluish-grey, comfortable, and had an emblem of a hobbit wearing a plumed hat, a uniform, and held his sword in the air.

It was dusk by the time Frodo entered the first level's courtyard. The stone fountain was shut off by the time he reached the door nearest to the wall, close to the bottom of the jutted rock. He looked once or twice over his shoulders, checking to make sure no one noticed him, before dismounting from his spotted chestnut pony Saunders. Once he strapped Saunders' reins to a post, Frodo charged towards the door, knocking on it twice, listening for any sound that crept up on the other side.

"Come in!" a gruff masculine voice called out to him on the other side of the door. Frodo nodded, moving the doorknob and slipping inside the first platform beyond the door. Frodo jumped the second he met the gaze of a portly man wearing a beige long-sleeved shirt, long brown breeches, brown boots, and a white apron covered in blood. The portly man told him, gesturing to the stairs, "You'll find the furnace down there! There's been a bloodbath. I took care of it! The goblins, I mean."

"Thank you, Sloan," Frodo said, charging down the stairs.

Sloan smirked, stopping Frodo in his tracks. "It's your skin, not mine! I wouldn't go down to that cursed furnace for all the gold in the world. Alagaësia will bless me!" He chuckled, loving this moment.

"I'm sure they will," Frodo said, facing Sloan again with hopeful eyes. "I'm sure you will be reunited with your family."

"Well, to each his own. Good luck down there," Sloan said, approaching the hobbit and shaking his hand. Frodo took it, shook it, and released his hand.

"And to you," Frodo said with a nod. He walked away, not looking back to see if Sloan had followed him or left the hallway. He looked back once to find Sloan had disappeared, for the door was wide open. Frodo sighed, realizing he was alone.

Frodo pulled out the gold ring from his waistcoat pocket. The ring, the One Ring, Sauron's ring, looked so mesmerizing. Oh, if only he didn't have to do this, then he could keep the ring… no! He needed to focus! If he got distracted, then this mission would be for nothing. He closed his fist around the ring, making his way down the stairs and towards a large room, where a giant iron furnace was lit.

He could tell this was right, for the Ring felt heavy in his hand. He stopped in front of the furnace, unsure what to do. His thoughts returned to the present at the sight of a lanky hobbit man wearing tattered clothes. Had he been down here all this time?

"One of us must do this task!" the lanky hobbit man, with white skin and large eyes, said, extending his hand to him. "Let me complete this task!"

"You!" Frodo said in disdain, recognizing the hobbit man's face. "Sméagol, I don't have time for this! You nearly stole my pony! Now, you want to help me?"

"Sméagol wants to help you!" Sméagol kept his hand there. "Give me the Ring! Even you know one of us has to do this task, make the ultimate sacrifice! You got the ring. Now, I must complete this!" Frodo gulped. He didn't want to give up the Ring. But Gollum was offering. What more could he do? He hesitated, not wanting to let the jewelry go just yet. Oh… was it worth the risk? "Come on. Trust me! What harm could it do?" Sméagol asked, concerned.

Frodo took a breath, passing the Ring over to Sméagol. He watched in agony as Sméagol jumped up and down, ecstatic. The lanky hobbit man turned his attention to the furnace, understanding what he must do. At last, Sméagol faced Frodo, admitting to him, "Tell Déagol I'm sorry, but I have to do this!" Sméagol nodded, turning to the furnace and throwing himself in, along with the Ring.

"NOOO!" Frodo cried, scrambling towards the furnace as the door closed automatically. No – what? How could Sméagol do that? A lump grew in Frodo's throat. He couldn't believe what Sméagol had done! Sacrificed himself for the good of the Free Peoples! Was that right? Frodo felt like he failed! Or did he succeed? Either way, he hadn't been around the Ring that long, only seven months… and now it was over.

Frodo's gaze met the top of the furnace. The fiery cat-like eye vanished from where it sat. The furnace erupted! Frodo moved back as the flames doused, leaving a pile of ash and dust where the furnace had been.

Frodo's heart fell into despair. Sméagol was in that furnace and now he was no more. The One Ring was gone, too, but still… Frodo couldn't help but wonder who would remember the lanky hobbit man who saved his life—

Sméagol's cousin Déagol would understand. Frodo would need to find him and Sméagol's family. That is if Sméagol's family were somewhere in Arda. He'd have to look hard enough to find them, wherever they were.

Oh boy! What was he to do?

~o~

Frodo climbed the stairs, returning to the door and entering the first level's courtyard. The last thing he wanted to see was Sloan laughing. That was never good.

"Finished already?" Sloan asked, chuckling in delight.

"Charmed," Frodo said, rolling his eyes.

"So, what's next?" Sloan asked as Frodo took his pony's reins off the post.

"Well, I need to find some lodging and meet Sméagol's family," Frodo said, looking around. "I don't know where they are."

"You should try the Gladden Fields. They were last sighted there," Sloan suggested.

"Thank you," Frodo said, leading his pony towards the first inn he saw. He looked back at Sloan as the man bid him farewell. He'd have to thank Sloan later for taking care of the goblins. He looked up, spotting an inn next to the stables. He sighed in frustration, for as he brought his pony over to a stable boy, he hardly expecting to see was a curly, light brown haired hobbit boy, standing next to a torch, smiling up at him. Frodo smiled back, before going into the tavern, wondering what the boy's business was at Minas Tirith.

*.*.*

Thanks for reading. :)

 **References:**

Sloan is from Christopher Paolini's book series, _The Inheritance Cycle_.


	2. Chester

Sorry for the long delay. I was updating my fanfics and taking a break. :)

*.*.*

Minas Tirith's first level tavern, the _Burning Sage_ , had a large dining area that was similar to the _Prancing Pony_ inn's dining area. Tables, chairs, and booths were scattered throughout the room, which had wood-paneled floors and beige painted walls. It was here that Frodo found all the amenities, including a barber in a corner, close to the stone fireplace.

Frodo sighed. He needed a haircut and would gladly use one. He approached the innkeeper's booth, telling the thin-framed man, "I'd like a room, please?"

The innkeeper pointed an index finger past the gentle-hobbit's shoulders. Strange. What was the innkeeper pointing to?

"What?" Frodo asked, turning finally to the window that was close to the front door. There was the hobbit boy, waving to him. Frodo grunted, making his way towards the front door and opening it.

The hobbit boy barged in, stunning the poor gentle-hobbit, who still held the door. Frodo scrambled to close the door, before approaching the hobbit boy again, who asked the innkeeper for a room for two, all while smiling up at Frodo.

This confused Frodo. Was the boy offering him a room, too? Either way, the innkeeper was friendly to them. Shocking!

"I'll get your room ready. It's on the house, Chester!" the innkeeper said to the hobbit boy, smiling widely at him.

"Chester?" Frodo asked, stunned by the name.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Chester asked, concerned.

"Who are you? And why am I bunking with you?" Frodo asked, confused.

"Well, you know my name, but I dare not know you," Chester asked in return.

Good question.

"Frodo Baggins," Frodo said, his brow furrowing. "I'm sorry. Where is your family? Your parents?"

"My mother's in jail and my father is dead," Chester said forthwith.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Frodo said, sympathetic.

Chester shrugged. "It's no problem. Things happen." He asked, heading over to an empty table, "Care to join me? I heard about your Ring quest. It was the quite the endeavor, wasn't it?" He added, out of curiosity, "Then again, who knows? I might offer you a job, now that the Ring is destroyed." He said, ecstatic, the moment Frodo sat down across from him, "Good riddance! I bet it took five men to destroy that wretched thing!"

"A friend died destroying the Ring," Frodo said, serious. "I don't like to talk about it."

"It just happened. Why wouldn't you talk about it?" Chester asked, giving the waitress his order.

Frodo gave a small grin. "Good point." He turned to the waitress, giving his order before she walked away. He asked Chester, curiously, "So, who are your parents? I'd like to know that part, so we can return you to them."

"I already told you: my mama's in jail and my father is dead." Chester gulped, not liking this part of the story. "Look, my father was the Bearer of Secrets. Thomas Hardbottle. His wife is Silvia Hornblower. They were local Shire-folk, hunting for the Salvia plant. It was their life's work to learn the secrets of the Salvia plant. It seems they passed it down to me."

"Your father is the Bearer of Secrets?" Frodo asked, concerned. Oh no! What if this lad found out that Samwise Gamgee, his best friend, killed Chester's father?

"Well, if it's any consolation, you're more than welcome to bunk with me tonight and then be on your merry way," Chester said with a warm-hearted smile.

"Shouldn't we find a new family for you?" Frodo asked the moment their food and drinks arrived. He thanked the waitress, before asking Chester further, "One that doesn't involve learning about the Salvia plant. Your parents are dangerous. Don't be like them."

"I'm afraid it's too late," Chester said, nodding to a man that came up behind Frodo. Before Frodo had the chance to say something else, a sack was pulled over his head, blinding him from the world.

~o~

The sack was removed, allowing Frodo to blink several times. He was in a well-lit room and tied to a chair. Seriously? What was with Chester's family, binding him to a chair, whenever they pleased? He remembered Silvia and Thomas doing that to him ten years ago. He nearly forgot, but now the memory was there, not so easily forgotten now.

He turned to Chester and his three thugs. The thugs were a female elf with long black hair, a man with brown hair and a bald spot on his head, and a dwarf with auburn hair and an annoyed expression on his face. These people did not look friendly. Not one bit.

"What are we doing here?" Frodo asked, shyly.

"Quiet!" Chester punched him in the stomach. The force of the blow nearly winded the hobbit musketeer. He hadn't expected a blow so powerful. Frodo looked up to see Chester drizzling the Salvia plant powder onto a clean cloth. Chester smiled, liking this game. "Now, now. This won't hurt one bit." He added, telling his plan, "Minas Tirith is about to have a Salvia plant nightmare after I'm done with it."

"You're going to use the Salvia plant on the White City?" Frodo asked, trying to wiggle out of his bonds. Nothing worked. His wrists were sore. He wanted to massage them. He looked up in time to see the man cover his mouth and nose with the cloth.

The last thing he heard from Chester before he fainted, was "Have a good night's sleep. You won't remember a thing—"

Frodo blacked out, remembering no more.


	3. Caught Red-Handed!

Frodo awoke in a dazed state. The smell of the Salvia plant was strong, still in his nostrils. Images formed across his mind. Moving images of his mother and the way she used to care for him, even when he doubted himself, even when he wanted to join the ranks of the Musketeers, years before he became a musketeer.

" _Why do you want to become a musketeer?" Primula Brandybuck-Baggins asked, tucking Frodo in bed. "The life of a musketeer is not easy. It takes bravery, courage, and triumph over losses to get through the day all right."_

" _But being a musketeer would be so grand!" Frodo said, swinging his arms in the air as if holding a real sword. "I'll face off against evil and triumph in one sitting!"_

 _Primula laughed. "Of course, you will. That's why you'll become a brilliant musketeer, and figure out your own problems. As long as you have friends by your side, willing to help you and you help them, you'll make it through anything. Goodnight Frodo. I'll see you in the morning." She blew out the candle, allowing the candle's smoke to rise towards the ceiling, vanishing before the smoke ever reached it._

His mother never came back. It was just Frodo, living a dream and an unresolved problem with Chester and the Salvia plant. He really needed his mother's support now. He'd give anything to see her again. Anything.

He woke now, laying on a warm, comfortable bed with white sheets and white covers draped over him. Where was he? Was he home? This made no sense.

He opened his eyes, realizing he had fallen asleep again. The Salvia plant powder had gone away. He sat up, pulling off the covers, and finding he was in the same clothes he had on all day. By the time he stood up, the balding man ran towards him, covering his mouth with his hand.

Quietly, and in haste, they made her way out of the house. There was Sam, Merry, and Pippin! Pippin with his curly golden hair, and Sam and Merry with their curly brown hair. Frodo recognized them especially for their faces and their voices. They were searching for him. Did they know about Chester's plan yet, to use the Salvia plant on the White City?

"You will only watch, little hobbit," the balding man whispered in his ear, forcing Frodo to watch Chester approach Sam, Merry, and Pippin, nearly taking them out with the Salvia plant. Frodo stared at his friends as they fought the elf and dwarf, finding the elf and dwarf were cunning but also fooled into thinking they had the upper hand.

Frodo turned to King Elessar, who found a whole sack filled with the Salvia plant. Chester, the female elf, and the auburn-haired dwarf were imprisoned, but Frodo was dragged by the balding man down the streets and thrown into a few barrels filled with red wine. Frodo looked up at the man as he pulled out his knife, ready to stab him.

 _Stab!_

The balding man dropped to the cobbled stone street. Frodo looked up at Sam, Merry, and Pippin, as it was Sam who saved Frodo's life. Frodo smiled, still weakened from the Salvia plant.

"Miss us?" Pippin asked, helping Frodo to his feet. "What happened? Thought we wouldn't see you again."

Frodo nodded. "Yes, well, it was convenient of you to come now. I nearly thought I would be done for." He pointed to the dead balding man on the street. "That man tried to killed me. I have you three to thank for saving me." He shrugged. "Now, I owe you one."

"Let's get out of here," Pippin said, leading Frodo away from the alleyway, heading straight for King Elessar. Their work wasn't done yet!


	4. Interrogation

Minas Tirith's jailhouse was large, with cells on the first floor and the second floor. Guards protected the jailhouse, protecting the citizens of Minas Tirith from the prisoners. It was here that Chester, the female elf, and the auburn-haired dwarf were thrown into separate cells, far away from each other before they could come up with another plan to escape.

King Elessar, as well as Frodo and his friends, entered the jailhouse to interrogate Chester. This was important because if Chester had a backup plan, then it was Frodo's job as a hobbit musketeer to find out what that plan was.

"How long has Chester been in Minas Tirith?" Elessar asked Frodo, cautious.

"I only met him today or was it yesterday? I don't know which day it was. Chester drugged me with the Salvia plant," Frodo said, cautious and concerned.

Chester didn't say anything, only glared at the men standing before him, towering over him like they were his guards.

Elessar knelt before the hobbit lad, asking him, kindly, "You will be held in this jailhouse for a very long time. You may not see the light of day again. That is not the life I ask any man or boy to be in. Maybe it will change you. Maybe it won't. Do you really want your life to be locked up in a cell?"

"What do you want?" Chester asked, knowing he'd better fess up if he wanted to live.

"You have more Salvia plants, don't you?" Sam asked Chester, cautious.

"I do," Chester said, nodding. "But you won't find them. I locked them away inside the rat's shop. They'll never come out again unless I tell someone about them." He added, surprising himself with the truth, "They're locked in a secret compartment, but I won't tell you where to find them."

"Not even on your life," Elessar asked, cautious.

"No. I would rather die than tell you where to find the rest of the Salvia plants," Chester grimaced. "That's my special plant. My parents used it. So, why would I bother telling you what they do!"

"They cause illusions. I know this because I've been in contact with the Salvia plant more than once." Frodo said, serious. "Thank you for reminding me of their effects. You've solved a great problem, lad."

"Think nothing of it. I don't deserve to be here! Let me go!" Chester cried, watching Elessar, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin walk out of his cell, with the guard closing and locking the cell door. Chester approached the barred window, clinging to it for dear life. "Hey! If you find the plant, don't use it or you too will fall under the Salvia plant's gaze."

"That's why we're going to find it, so no one is affected by the plant again. Not in the amount you grew," Elessar said, leading Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin out of the jailhouse. He closed the door before Chester could try to reason with them. Elessar looked at Frodo and his three friends, telling them, "The rest of the Salvia plants are locked away somewhere in the rat shop. Find them before someone else does. I'll take care of the rest."

"Right," Pippin said, following Frodo, Sam, and Merry down the street, towards the rat shop, where they hoped to find the Salvia plants sooner rather than later.

~o~

The rat shop was in a corner alley, revealing a sign with a taxidermy rat hanging from a post. Other rats were locked in cages. It was here Frodo and his three friends entered through the front wooden door, discovering the first room and the stairs leading up to the second floor were covered in rats.

Frodo minded his steps as he searched for the secret compartment. Surely, it was here, hanging around a spot where they couldn't see it. He moved books here and there, but found nothing. At last, he found the right book and showed it to his friends.

"Secrets," Frodo and his friends read the book's title in unison. Frodo moved the book out a bit, revealing a hidden room behind the bookcase. He entered this room, revealing piles upon piles of Salvia plants stored away in large sacks. He sighed, recognizing the Salvia plants' scent. "Stay here." He told his friends, heading towards the front door, "I'll go find Aragorn, let him know we found the plants!"

"I'll come with you! I'm not letting you wander the streets by yourself again." Pippin said, following Frodo out the door, if only for a second too late. There was Elessar, entering the rat shop with a few foot soldiers. Elessar sighed, grateful to see the hobbits found the secret stash of Salvia plants, before someone else did.


	5. Another Successful Mission

This is the last chapter of this story.

*.*.*

The rat shopkeeper was put into the jailhouse for being Chester's accomplice. The rat shopkeeper's son-in-law was now given the job as shopkeeper to the rat shop until further notice, much to Elessar's chagrin.

Still, Elessar approved of the rat shopkeeper's son-in-law owning the rat shop now. It made the world a whole lot better, knowing there were good men protecting the Reunited Kingdom from plotters and schemers.

Frodo was grateful for the reward King Elessar gave to him and his three friends. It was a price to pay for a job well done. Frodo put his sack of gold coins inside his pocket, determined to spend the coins on something precious. A new house maybe at Minas Tirith, where he could keep watch of the king and queen, as well as their son.

"So, this is where we part ways?" Pippin asked Frodo, as soon as they, Sam, and Merry reached the first level. Pippin didn't want to leave Frodo behind, but their work was done. A job well done indeed.

"It seems like it," Frodo said with a warm-hearted smile. "I've got a commission to stay at the White City. It shouldn't be long before I'm back in the Shire. And besides, Minas Tirith has its perks."

"It's better than keepin' that useless One Ring. You sure it has nothing to do with that?" Sam asked, curious.

Frodo looked up, spotting a family that looked similar to Sméagol's. He excused himself, approaching Sméagol's family and telling them the news about their relative's untimely death. Sméagol's grandmother cried, as did Déagol, Sméagol's cousin. It was truly a sad day for them, but one that lifted Frodo's spirits with a reward from Sméagol's family. A comb made by the merfolk over at the Bay of Belfalas.

Frodo wouldn't forget this gift, nor their kindness.

"Thank you, but I don't know what I could give you all in return," Frodo spoke to Sméagol's family, wondering if there was anything else he could offer them.

Déagol, a dark brown-haired hobbit, patted Frodo on the shoulder. "Think nothing of it. Telling us about Sméagol's sacrifice is reward enough."

Frodo smiled, glad there were still good people in the world worth saving. And that made the day worth it in the end.

*.*.*

We're done with the second part of my fanfiction trilogy, _Frodo and the Musketeers_. :) The last part of this trilogy is inspired by Alexandre Dumas' book, _The Man in the Iron Mask_. So, we will see Frodo and his friends again in the conclusion to this fanfiction trilogy. :)

Thanks for reading. :) I'll see everyone in the next story. Bye! :)

 _Aria Breuer_


End file.
